


Their Neverending Fantasy

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Category: Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: AUs, Multi, various pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter who they are, where, when, they will always find each other. The dream will never end, even if it only ever was a half remembered fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freedom

Freedom was relative, ask anyone and they might say much the same, or they might not. To the forest sprite, freedom came from disrupting fae and mortal lives, from the ability to turn the sweetest bonds sour and the bitterest enemies into bosom friends. For Puck, the fine fairy fuck, freedom was the ability to cause mischief and strife wherever he might wander without so much as a thought.

However, there would always be those who said otherwise, who could not see beyond their worryingly large noses and always thought their words were the truest. After all, how could any creature, mortal or fae, ever be free if they were bound such as the little imp was. For there was no mistaking how tightly the devil was bound to his master, how willingly he slipped on the chains of servitude for his beloved master and go so far as to say he was happy! How could a servant possibly find pleasures in his bondage? The very idea deemed utterly mortifying by the lot of them. 

Thankfully, the Fae King mused, his Puck very rarely listened to idiocy unless he was further propagating it. Such a dedicated and loyal attendant he had, though, he must admit, it wasn’t as though the little gremlin got nothing out of this...relationship.

“Get the hell back to bed, my liege. There’s yet another fire to feed.”


	2. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Howl's Moving Castle AU with Puck aka Robin Goodfellow as Howl and Oberon as Calcifer.

Robin’d been waiting a long time for a night like this, nearly all his life really. He’d done all the calculations and even asked his teachers just so he could be sure tonight was really what he hoped it would be. He’d gotten his uncle out of the cottage, lied about there being a letter from the royal academy for him and by the time the old man got back it would be too late for him to stop Robin.

All around him stars fell, skipping and hissing across the grass or the water for a few heart stopping seconds before fading away to nothing. Tracking another one with his eyes, Robin used just the slightest bit of magic to have the wind blow the little star right into his outstretched hands. He’d done his research, read up as much as he could so he knew that the tiny being in his hands was not just a star but a fire demon. An ancient, powerful, magical being that was incredibly pretty too.

“Hmm, I’ve never been caught by a child before, tell me boy, how old are you?” the demon asked, the orange flames dying down to a cool blue, nearly the colour of the sky above them.

“My name’s Robin and I’m twelve, who are you?” he replied, smiling gently as the fire gained a face, nothing more than a pair of eyes and a burning mouth but a face none the less.

“I am Oberon and you are a very powerful young wizard Robin. Do you wish to make a contract with me?” Oberon crackled and Robin’s breath caught in his throat. He had dreamed about having a demon familiar for as long as he could remember, the power, the complete freedom it would give him but he never once thought the **_demon_ ** would suggest it. All of his readings had told him demons would do anything in their power to remain the torrid, aloof stars humans gazed at so longingly. Would lie and cheat their way of out of any deal a mortal made with them, that only the most cunning of wizards could keep a demon as his familiar.

“Yes, yes I would, do you really want to be my familiar, Oberon?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. 

“I would not offer did I not Robin but are you ready to give up your heart?” the fire countered, a wicked gleam appearing in the demon's newly formed eyes. The young wizard’s only reply was to lift the little star to his mouth and swallow him down. 


	3. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simply falling in love with an ass would never be enough punishment for the anguish Titania caused her Lord.

Glancing about the clearing, the fairy queen and her attendants could not help but to wonder just what form of celebration had taken place here, if one could even call it that. Dozens of silk pillows lay abandoned in the grass, each one skillfully embroidered with the crest of some mortal nobles, at one time they must have looked quite beautiful but now their threadbare tassels hung limp. More than a few glass bottles lay scattered at her feet, drained of course but clearly once held alcohol, and if one went by the smell, _potent_ alcohol.

"Who feasted here, whence came this beer? Surely no mortal attempted, not since last Midsummer Eve ended," the queen murmured to herself while her attendants poked and prodded at the evidence left behind. They were _quite_ deep in the forest, few enough _fae_ made it here much less mortals, so to see such obvious signs of drunken debauchery was perplexing to say the least.

"My lady, a lock of hair, as green as any leaf fair," Peaseblossom reported, bowing deeply and holding out the few strands of green for her to grasp. Taking it between her fingers, Titania instantly recognised the particular hue and texture. After all, she had married the creature in possession of such a lustrous and unique hair type.

"So my Oberon slumbered hence, but with whom? Who dare take the chance? What fool seeks their doom?" the fae woman pondered while her train darted about the clearing, searching for something, anything, that would identify the other person that had so recently abandoned the clearing with their King. Not one of them dared think their King had spent the night alone. Not with the number of empty bottles or the smell of sex that lay thick in the air, signifying just how close they had been to catching the illicit pair.

Unbeknownst to any in the clearing, no such affair had taken place among them, the King would never lower himself to rutting on stolen pillows like some base animal. Oh no, this was all Puck's doing, _he_ had spirited away the cushions from the mortal nobles, _he_ had cast the enchantment that left the place smelling of intercourse. _He_ had gathered up as many empty bottles as he could carry away from the latest fae gathering and dumped them in the clearing. Then, he'd waited until his King lay sleeping to steal but three hairs from his head and leave them with the rest of his stage, knowing that Titania would happen across his trap and become part of the play he had taken such pains to orchestrate.

He bit down on his knuckles, stifling the hysterical laughter that would most certainly ruin the game and watched as his **_Queen_** had what amounted to a temper tantrum. Oh what better way to pay her back for disobeying her King and husband than by creating a clandestine affair that was so very far from the truth she would find herself mad from trying to unravel it all? Besides, she deserved it doubly for daring to believe Lord Oberon would stand to fornicate in a clearing when he so clearly preferred his own bed. The one he sometimes shared with his Queen, but more often than not with his most loyal Puck.


	4. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And for all that his loyal Puck does, even this most treasured servant can be outshined by newer playthings.

Mortal creatures like to think the Fae were immortal that while time ravaged their world, the fae, those ethereal people of light and myth, remained stagnant. The minds of mortal creatures caused Puck no small amount of confusion and had him wasting many a day trying to decipher their deliciously unique puzzles. Although most mortal creatures avoided him like the proverbial plague, knowing of his identity or not.

True, while _some_ fae were depressingly long lived, most others were not. Why there were nymphs who lived only as long as their rivers and trees did, sprites who shared the years of a mortal man. There were pixies who passed faster than a sigh and brownies who lived only so long as mortal hospitality did. Very rarely would you come across one who had lived more than three centuries and even more so for one who'd lived longer than seven. Though, once a fae creature had passed their sixth hundred, there was little else that could spell demise for them and they lived on.

No doubt they were whom mortals based all their knowledge on, seeking out the rarest of his kind and generalising to all. Such interesting creatures they were, so very strange.

Puck himself, Robin Goodfellow and none else, was only just cresting his second hundred. He was getting on in his years, no longer the spiteful little spitfire that many referred to with annoyance. Oh no, now Robin Goodfellow was courtier of the King, a vengeful devil that acted on both his Lord's behalf and his own boredom. There wasn't one who knew not of him and spoke after him with anything but polite distaste, too mindful to say more and too frustrated to say less.

"Would my King take another after? Perhaps one younger and brighter?" he mused as he went about his nightly work. He'd already braided long stems of sweet grass into a fine bridle and was waiting ever so patiently for a selkie to pass by then quick as a wink he would have the beautiful fae horse under his power. He had captured any number of fae beasts in this manner, unicorns and gryphons, idle dragons and phoenix, none were safe from this Puck.

Perhaps he would drive the thing through Queen Titania's bower, trample the sweet flowers and send her maids crying. Or maybe he would guide the creature towards the town, let it run amok through the sleeping streets, scare the babes in their beds and set the maidens a-screaming. Or both, if the poor thing was up to it, selkies tired ever so fast away from their watery homes. Though they could travel miraculous distances faster than a thought, never as far as Puck of course, but far faster than he could fly. He was the greatest of his Master's court, he could put a girdle about the earth in forty minutes but a selkie could travel seven leagues faster than any booth.

"Ah, there you are, imp. Up to your usual mischiefs and tricks," the familiar voice of his lord murmured, as decadent as any wine and twice as intoxicating. Puck smirked over his shoulder but stayed in the mud bordering the river, he was in no mood to play with his Lord tonight and much preferred the damp earth to scalding remarks. He had been dismissed in favour of another, the King's newest serving boy, won from his Queen through deceptions and nothing more than a short lived mortal boy.

"Softly, softly, my King, I hope to trap yet a mount, be it not a wondrous thing? Though perhaps not in your count," he whispered, curving ever so slightly out of his Lord's reach. He knew well enough how the Night King so loathed dirtying his person, in the conventional ways, and was not likely to snatch his servant from the mud. Although, if he were to leave poor Puck in peace, that would be more wondrous yet.

"Return to me another time, though sweet grass be easily broken, and all the rest of your crimes, along with grievances shall be spoken," his King instructed effortlessly before leaving his servant to his devices. He waits, waits until he is sure his Lord has truly left before throwing down the bridle and wading deep into the water. He is a slight thing yes and the current is swift but not so swift as to take him away though he wish it might, take him far out to sea, dashing him along sharp stone as it does.

How dare his King treat him so poorly? Dismiss him in favour of a mortal child then come to criticise and ruin his mischief? Puck would like nothing better now than to swear and curse at the stars, make use of every colourful phrase he knows and twist them into something ugly using his talented silver tongue. But, he is far too old for such childish antics and such recourse would be far too predictable of some scorned love or spoiled servant.

So, instead, he let the river's water close over his head. If the selkie refused to come from the river, Puck of course had no choice but to search out the beast himself. And ride it he would, straight through **_Oberon's_** bower, scattering **_his_** train, though his _precious_ mortal knight would be left quite well alone. After all, Robin was not a jealous love, he was nothing more than a mischievous pain in the ass.


	5. Ink and Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Midsummer come and gone. And though celebrations and revels were had, nothing so fantastical as what happened once upon a dream was repeated. Less's the pity.

Oberon had always been enamoured with the ink mortals so carefully stitched into their skin, the splash of colour against a near standard background was intriguing. And that they would undergo a long and often painful process to decorate themselves with fantastic pictures and beloved words was oddly heartening. Most humans wore those inked thoughts for life, presenting it as art of the more intimate kind, or hid them and pretended they never happened.

"Truly complicated," he murmured, tapping his cigarette over the balcony and watching as the ash fell to the ground. Another midsummer had come and gone, his children had cavorted and gallivanted as only the fae knew how and he had met with his Queen for a day and a night. It was good to see her, to know that Titania was also making her way well in this new human world.

They, as Fae King and Queen, had danced and feted the time away, all the while ensuring the harmony of seasons. After that one disastrous year, when their fighting had affected nature so harshly, they had agreed to never let their realm suffer so again. Which meant meeting at each solstice, summer and winter, to bind their magicks together and renew their vows to each other. The decision to live by themselves, to have little or no interaction in the months between had been negotiated not soon after. Now the only time Oberon saw his wife was at solstice or similar occasions and their relationship was all the better for it.

"Speak of the Queen do you? For I completely understand, my lord," the familiar purr of his constant companion was not amiss and thin lips curled into a smirk. As usual, Puck had disappeared during the festivities, honour bound to his Lord's words and as mischief maker to twist around his wife's court. The last he had seen of his trusted imp, Puck and Peaseblossom, his wife's dearest handmaid, were dancing on the edge of a rooftop, ever so close to falling but never quite.

"And what trouble have you been at?" he questioned lazily, putting the mortal cancer stick to his mouth and breathing another lungful of the noxious fumes. Warm arms wrapped around his midsection as a body plastered itself to his back, and judging by the softness Puck had decided on a female form tonight. Oberon dropped his hand from the balcony rail to entwine his fingers with those of his most favoured and best loved servant.

"Not as much as I planned," Puck pouted into his back and he couldn't help laughing at that. Only his Puck would call not managing to burn a city to the ground while its people danced naked in the street a failure.

"No, I only managed to convince her Lady's maids into decorating their bodies in a more pleasing manner," his servant continued to sigh but he could hear the wicked smirk behind that despondent tone. Deciding that he'd had enough of his mortal indulgence, the beglamoured fae king let the still smoking cigarette slip between his fingers and turned in his servant's embrace, glad to see the smirk he'd heard was real. He let his hands settle on the small of her back, taking in the newest version of Puck's mortal guise with fully appreciative eyes.

As always, the imp stayed true to the fae frame and was petite, still an entire head shorter than her lord and curved ever so delicately. The eyes had changed again, as was expected, from the moss green she was so fond of to a rich brown not a few shades darker than his own hair, he was pleased to note how well her eyes still managed to match her skin. He never could understand how the violet skinned Puck took so well to the warm brown in mortal guise but that was all part of the allure.

"Piercings Robyn? Surely not iron," he murmured, brown eyes flashed mischievously as she glanced up at him then away. Such a little devil he'd bound to himself, a wonderful little tease, that often times Oberon shuddered to think of the mundanity his life would be devoid of the imp.

"Mmm, perhaps yes, perchance not, who can be sure? We were all so very drunk on the magicks and drink of the night that one lost track very easily," Puck sighed, tossing black, purple and red hair dramatically when he noticed it. It wasn't that Puck ever kept her hair long, male or female form, but it was always enough to touch her shoulders and cover the slightest of her back.

The curling, wisping black had all the consistency of smoke, possibly meant to evoke it, and disappeared under the orange shirt his servant wore. She said nothing as he traced the ink, finger tips ghosting along skin as he followed the trail and was stopped by cloth. Still smirking, Puck spun and lifted her shirt in one, leaving her back bare and the design on full display.

The piece was done well, each wisp and curl of the smoke which provided a backdrop was distinct while the main design was intricate and familiar. While the smoke took up most of her back, the character of the piece sat just above the small of it, not quite centred and bearing a trademark leer. A wingless fairy wreathed in smoke had been inked onto his Puck's skin and done so flawlessly there was no question of the magic involved.

"And what prompted this idea?" he breathed, tracing the fairy's form lightly before moving along a trail of smoke. The bare skin was warm, as Puck always was, and there wasn't so much as a raised line of skin to prove the tattoo was there. In the dark he would never be able to tell, that such a distinctive thing could be so easily hidden was odd. Mortals like to believe only the fae could weave magic but here they were, creating spells and charms to rival that of the best conjurers. 

"Drunk ideas are the best, but there's more," Puck promised, tossing her top at him before darting away. He watched bemused as each candle he'd lit, out of nostalgia, was put out, and every lamp he used in lieu of a proper ceiling light was turned off. Then Puck dragged him by the hands over to the mountain of pillows they called bed and knelt on it, still facing away from him.

"The artist didn't want to complete all of it in one night but was persuaded otherwise. He promised compliments and recommended a night at Midnight Fantasy," she explained, mentioning the club they had grown fond of. In the darkness there was no reason to think there was anything different about his Puck but he knew better than to doubt the imp. A quick snap and whispered chant was all his warning before an unnatural purple light covered the room.

"How? What was used?" he questioned, as the black lights touched dark skin and the entire design was transformed into a lighted wonder. Of course Oberon had heard of these, drawings done in regular ink as well as that which only showed under ultra violet lighting, the true beauty of the piece invisible until the bearer wished otherwise. Now the fairy had its wings and crown while jewels dripped from its figure, all done so accurately anyone would think Puck had directed the needle herself.

"Non-toxic ink," she answered softly as she caught him in a vicious kiss. Rarely did his Puck initiate kisses, leaving them to her King and calling them romantic mortal fancies, worth no more than a moment's bliss so when she did, he knew better than to oppose her.

Sharp teeth nipped at his lips biting hard, though she always stopped just short of breaking skin. Of course, this was still his mercurial Puck who never played by anyone's rules so while her teeth were sharp, her tongue was soothing, easing whatever hurts she caused. It was nothing to let her tongue slip between his bitten and bruised lips, to let each moan sound loud as she so obviously wanted.

Slender fingers hooked onto his hips and curled around his neck, breaking their kiss and pressing his face to her neck in a very clear gesture. So instead of sealing their lips together again as he so wanted, Oberon bit hard at the supple skin of her neck, making sure each mark was dark and noticeable. Each breathy laugh he earned was electrifying and he couldn't help smiling even as his sharper than mortal teeth broke skin and sickeningly sweet fae blood coated his tongue. There was more than one way to dominate and Puck knew them all, had invented half of them he thinks.

Every summer solstice he sent his Puck away, knowing too well the darker magicks that lurked at this time, knew just how sinister like called to like. And for all that Oberon relishes in such a loyal servant, one that does not have to play by all the same rules as the rest of his children, he is no fool. There was a reason his Puck's true name was synonymous with that of the devil, such a Goodfellow indeed. 

Before he kept his servant close, so better to keep the imp in check, but in this new age of mortals Oberon sent his Puck away. When magicks ran rampant, Puck's play turned malevolent and though humans still posed no real threat to the supernatural, it was always better to draw their attention away from solstice revelry. Sending away his servant also ensured his wife never fetched upon her again and it was always better for Puck to exhaust her malice away from Titania. If that meant unleashing her on unsuspecting mortals or allowing her to persuade feather brained fae into adorning themselves with pretty bits of iron and gems then so be it. If that meant letting her go off and come back with his inked form on some part of her body, then so be it.

He let her do as she wished, gave to her what she was denied but twice a year when he was not just Oberon but Lord Father of the Fae. It was everything he could give in return for her faithful service. 


End file.
